


Now You See Me

by Sherry_CS



Series: See [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Cheating, M/M, M/M/M, More In Notes, OOC Akihito, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Switch Akihito, Switch Feilong, Threesome, Top Mikhail, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherry_CS/pseuds/Sherry_CS
Summary: Akihito goes to find Feilong in Macau where the latter is supposed to be having a secret getaway with Mikhail... Mikhail goes very mad, things get out of hand.
Relationships: Mikhail Arbatov/Liu Fei Long, Mikhail Arbatov/Liu Fei Long/Takaba Akihito, Takaba Akihito/Liu Fei Long
Series: See [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681090
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Now You See Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure filth... My worst yet. Asami/Akihito fans please be warned: Akihito is in effect cheating on Asami here, and I haven’t portrayed Asami in the best possible light, so... try not be offended? Akihito is portrayed as more or less a tool, a pawn, in the battle between Mikhail and Feilong also, great sex but little feeling (at least from Mikhail to Akihito that is for sure), so do be prepared there too. 
> 
> Proceed with caution.

A brand new matte silver Hummer convertible raced down the lively streets of Macau in the middle of a busy weekend day, attracting all eyes and some cameras. Mikhail Arbatov cursed his impatience. He was so furious when he stormed out of the house that all he knew was to grab the nearest key he could find, which turned out to be that to his new limited edition Hummer. He didn’t want to be seen. This was supposed to be a secret get-away after all, for the two of them. 

For the two of them, his ass. Now the other half of the party just deliberately went and destroyed the little weekend paradise he went to such pains to create. Damn, he was looking forward to this for weeks! Liu Feilong, damn the man and his impossible-ness!

He had half a mind to just keep racing and never come back but then, turning around a corner, he saw the little coffee shop where he and Feilong liked to hang out sometimes. A quaint little Italian place tastefully decorated in black and white, serving expert coffee and some of the best ice cream anyone could find around the world. Feilong used to be a strict tea-over-coffee person, that is, until Mikhail made it for him using his personal favourite blend. Before realising what he was doing, Mikhail was taking a sharp U-turn back toward their villa. Without him at the house, his Feilong wouldn’t even know where to find WATER. He hated that he had to care.

The villa was a tucked-away little place in the quieter area of Macau, hidden behind walls of bamboo, separated from the world by a long winding drive up the hill and a state-of-the-art security system. Mikhail acquired this place only a month ago, hoping to give Feilong a romantic surprise. He wanted them to have a little place they could call their own. He’d even sent the entire staff away so they could enjoy total privacy. And Feilong did look somewhat pleased. All of this was irrevocably fucked up with the boy’s sudden arrival.

The main gate opened as the Hummer approached. 

Their sounds greeted him before their image. Well, the boy’s sounds, mainly.

Takaba Akihito — or was it Akihito Takaba? He could never get these Japanese names straight. Not that Chinese names were any easier but there he had an initiative to learn. Feilong called the boy Aki, but he didn’t want to do the same.

The sight that greeted him as he stepped through the archway into the living area was condemning as hell. There on the giant centrepiece leather sofa, unashamedly exposed like stage actors under spotlight, intricately intertwined like an illustration out of some ancient black art mystery book, moving in such a dreamy slow-motion way like living statues, were his lover and the intruder, his Feilong and his Feilong’s Takaba.

His brain wilfully tuned out Takaba’s luscious cries as he approached the pair. 

His Feilong was dressed in his favourite house silks which he personally designed and had specially made for himself, a billowy figure-hugging thing that was just so light and so richly smooth and so damn all-covering it was constantly driving Mikhail crazy (you never knew what the man could be wearing underneath, if he was wearing anything at all), now hanging loosely off Feilong’s slippery shoulders, barely shielding the connection of flesh underneath. The boy on the other hand was completely naked, skin shimmery with the exertion, muscles taut, face buried in the expensive leather (is that a trickle of saliva leaking unto the surface?), ass sticking up toward Feilong’s attention, waist dipped, toes digging into the imported hand-woven rug. He was obviously enjoying himself, fingers clawing into the leather, eyes screwed shut, panting and lip-biting. 

Neither of them seemed to notice Mikhail, even as his boots thudded across the tiled floor. It was understandable of Takaba, but Feilong? Feilong was no doubt ignoring him if only to spite him. 

Takaba finally registered the extra presence in the room, during the short moment where he actually managed to look past that euphoric haze.

‘F-Fei...! Stop! It’s... it’s... Mr. Arbatov!’ He cried. 

‘I know. That is indeed his name.’ Feilong’s voice carried no noticeable change of tone or timbre as he flipped Takaba halfway around, bending one leg up toward the boy’s head, blocking that leg and both wrists with one hand, thus giving the new-comer a clear full frontal view of the boy’s fired-up youthful body. He even went so far as to stroke the boy’s weeping cock, thus far unattended, exposing in between the billowing of his bathrobe the give-and-take, the drawing-and-sheathing, of flesh, as it were. 

The boy was flustered all out of his sorts, ‘Please, F-Feilong... s-stop! We’re being watched!’, while trying in vain to escape the beautiful man’s iron grip.

‘Feilong, the boy is begging you to stop. Have a heart, would you? Listen, for a change.’ The thud of boots approached them, followed by the clashing sound of metal falling onto the floor. Feilong and Takaba were speaking in Japanese, but it really didn’t require special knowledge to understand ‘stop’ in any language. Feilong turned his head reluctantly to find Mikhail Arbatov getting out of his clothes. 

‘What are you doing?’ He knit his brows apprehensively.

In exactly two seconds, Mikhail had gone from skimpily dressed to underwear only. His look of innocence would have been convincing if not for the feline malice in his eyes. ‘What, I thought you were getting him ready for me?’

‘Get. Dressed. And. Get. Out.’ Feilong’s menace too would have been convincing if he weren’t flushed in the face and panting a little. 

‘So you and Asami are entitled to Takaba’s gorgeous piece of ass but I am not? Strange.’ Mikhail tilted his head like a little kid pondering a difficult math problem, a bizarre picture, coupled with that Jormungandr of a cock he held in his hand, waking up for its breakfast.

Akihito couldn’t take his eyes off the monster, his look a wonderful mixture of fear and mesmerisation. ‘Fei... Please don’t... let that thing come near me... It’s gonna kill me, I just know it!’

‘Ooh, does that mean I’m bigger than Asami? Thanks, kid. You’ve just given me a reason to treat you real well.’ By now Mikhail was looming over Akihito, his giant of a cock standing at full attention and lined up with the boy’s mouth. ‘Let’s be friends,’ he said, and prodded it open. 

As furious as he was that Feilong would choose Akihito over him, practically kicking him out of the house with no more consideration than he would accord a delivery boy, Mikhail was unexpectedly, incredibly, aroused by the sight of Feilong presiding over Akihito like that, so proud, so _ **in control**_ , so non-negotiably sexy. It made him want to fall at his feet and grab his hair and fuck his mouth at the same time. 

His clear blue eyes were lit up with a strange fire as they pierced into Feilong’s deep obsidian ones which for their own part burned with ominous glow, dangerous thoughts apparent in both pair. Heads will roll, but whose? Mikhail grinned shamelessly as if to see if he could aggravate Feilong just a bit more, rocking his hips into Akihito’s struggling mouth, coaxing, ‘wake up, will you? Is that all Asami and Feilong-sama here ever taught you? I’m getting bored.’

To his surprise, Akihito shook his head free long enough to shout, ‘FUCK YOU! No one can work that damn thing! I can’t fucking breathe here and you complain about getting bored?! You br...’ before Mikhail stuffed it again in case he bursted out laughing.

He exchanged an incredulous look with Feilong. Does this boy even know who he’s dealing with here? His eyes seemed to ask. I could fucking shoot him on the fucking spot and no one would fucking question! (And whoever taught him to say ‘fuck you’ in English?)

Feilong shrugged, letting his silk robe fall onto the floor, and tossed his hair. Both men momentarily stopped what they were doing to look at him. He let go of Akihito’s hands and leg and retracted himself from Aki’s body with an obscene pop, earning a regretful groan from that busy mouth. And then, he climbed up the length of leather and flesh toward where Akihito’s head lay, on all fours. 

‘Move, Aki, and watch,’ was all he said before he opened his mouth, and enveloped his rosy lips around Mikhail’s obelisk.

The tip first, of course, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, circling the head before wrapping the lips around, trying it on for size, applying a bit of pressure just to put the man on edge. A sharp intake of breath. Balance overthrown. Game on. A stripe of wetness up the back, and then down. Taking him slow, diving in only to emerge back up, never giving more than he could revoke. Tightening the leash an inch at a time. Luring in the beast. Sword dancing in the coliseum. 

Mikhail’s hands reached into Feilong’s hair to collect it out of his face. His voice was full of wonder. ‘You’ve never done this to me before.’

Feilong’s daydream eyelashes fluttered as he looked halfway up and breathed onto the slit of Mikhail’s cock, ‘I’m only trying to prove a point to Aki. You, are a teaching tool.’

‘I... Fuck!’ Mikhail choked on his smart rebuke when Feilong suddenly swallowed him whole, driving it all the way to the back of his throat. Mikhail jerked, his full amazing length creating an obscene superengrave against Feilong’s lily-white cheek. ‘Fuck... you could make me come like that, do you know?’ Mikhail’s breath became ragged, his hands in Feilong’s hair less for teasing, more for support. The mischievous beauty’s victorious laugh vibrated down his staff. 

And then, the beauty yelped.

He spit Mikhail out and, looking down his own torso, cried ‘what are you doing, Aki?!’ For while the two got carried away with Feilong’s first blowjob (on Mikhail anyway), Takaba Akihito got carried away with the damningly erotic scene playing before him. Just as Mikhail had never seen Feilong top from the first row, _he_ had never seen him _**bottom**_! The Liu Feilong he knew was this dark force that ate him inside out like a storm, baring and burning emotions like a witch’s bonfire, half the time he couldn’t even see that beautiful face, Feilong made sure of that. Feilong always made sure to either _have_ no reactions, or _show_ no reactions, and the blinding need to just _**see**_ him was driving Akihito _**insane**_ (as his dreams could well testify.) But no dream could ever come close to this — this blushing, glowing, _**wicked**_ Feilong before him, hair a mess, body exposed, dark like sin, pliant like a dove, with a cock in his mouth no less, a teasing cherub descending from heaven but with a dildo in hand. And it awoke something in him. 

That was when he bent down, opened Feilong’s legs, and dived. 

‘Aki... Stop... You don’t know what you’re doing!’ If his admonishment sounded more like a plea, it was entirely due to his temporary loss of breath, thought Feilong. 

‘Don’t I?’ That was all Akihito said before he added a finger up Feilong’s tight entrance, further opening passage for his wet probing tongue.

That one line opened up in an instant myriad images as perplexing as they were perturbing, even Mikhail’s brow went up, but none of them had any time to dwell on any thinking as Akihito apparently really knew what he was doing. Lubricating up Feilong’s nervous hole with his mere saliva, patiently tending to it the same way a loving gardener might a rare flower, first one finger, then two, assisting in his clever tongue’s virgin expedition up his lover’s forbidden path, looking for any sensitive spot that might earn him a shiver, a moan, a tightening of the thighs... while his other hand stroked Feilong’s outward jewels in motions as methodical but not nearly as patient. His lover? Did he just think of Feilong as his lover? _**Yes**_ , and from now on he refused to consider himself any less. 

His eager work sent Feilong into a writhing panting mess in no time. The exquisite mixture of shame and novel pleasure and the sheer brutality of Akihito’s newly found desire too heady for even his considerable self-control. And oh he was hitting it. Buried _in_ his ass, Akihito couldn’t see, but every time his tongue tapped against that one perfect spot, Feilong’s breath caught, his body arched, his eyes watered with brimming desire, making his long lashes shine like crystal in the afternoon sunlight (God, what perverts they were!). And his lips were pink, oh so pink, and even though by now no coherent words could be heard coming from them, Mikhail, who had to be on the receiving end of all this heart attack sexiness, believed he heard two words distinctively — FUCK, and ME.

_He’s gonna make me come..._

Feilong didn’t have to say any of the words aloud, couldn’t if he tried, but Mikhail didn’t miss a syllable. 

‘Like hell he is,’ announced the blonde. Suddenly he was scooping his lover up with one arm, propping his legs up upon his own splayed knees and locking him in place against his strong chest and hot cock. Akihito, though startled with all these sudden movements, understood instantly what Mikhail was trying to do and hurried onto the carpeted floor, his fingers never leaving Feilong’s body, his tongue swooping back in as soon as his knees kissed the ground. 

So it was with unprecedented humiliation and utter utter abandon that Liu Feilong found himself wedged between two hungry lovers, legs wide open, chasing that elusory pleasure hidden under his own skin, with the metaphysical key to it being tossed between hot kneading palms and a smart persistent tongue. His ass cheeks were grinding into Mikhail’s suffering cock as his head twisted around to meet the Russian in a warring kiss, heat devouring heat, sound drowning out sound, want wrestling want, peril pounding peril, a battle of gods above cotton candy clouds. 

Every nerve a firework, every blood vessel an electric channel, every hair an erogenous zone, he couldn’t tell wherefrom the onslaught came but came it did. He felt he’d become a balloon of need, swollen, burgeoning, ascending, ready to burst at the slightest touch of air, and he longed, _**longed**_ , to be free. 

So it was thus that Liu Feilong finally came undone in the hands and tongues (and teeth) of his lovers, tortured but also cared, cared, but also tortured. He came spasming against Mikhail and Akihito, waist arching so high it looked like it could snap, ragged shouts for help barely escaping his painfully bit lips and searing his throat. No creamy liquid splattered upon Akihito’s face as it was a dry orgasm. They’d barely touched his more traditional parts.

Mikhail carried Feilong in his arms as he stood, his own member straining and unattended to. Akihito wiped his mouth and made to follow them upstairs.

Mikhail turned around, eyeing the kid in cold scrutinisation. ‘Are you sure? After this, there’s no way back.’ He said. 

Akihito took a step up. ‘Why don’t you let me find out?’

It felt like a full minute that Mikhail eyed Akihito, and then, what he gave was a cross between a grunt and a chuckle. ‘This kid is just asking for trouble, ain’t he?’ He was obviously talking to Feilong who apparently did not pass out after all. 

‘He’s got a talent for it.’ Feilong echoed his blonde lover weakly. 

You have no idea, murmured Akihito in his heart. The dreams I had of you... now they are only gonna get worse. He palmed his cock. 

Sprinting, he caught up with the two. He cradled Feilong’s face as if he were a precious baby, and kissed him sensually on the lips. 

‘Do what you want with me.’ He said softly, reverently. 

‘Only if you promise the same,’ Feilong’s velvet voice a dangerous whisper.

Mikhail strode up the stairs two steps at a time without giving Akihito any more time to elaborate. 

—— 

When Akihito woke up, it was almost night. The evening sun shone warmly through the windows. Everything was so quiet, so perfectly in place. He couldn’t feel his bones. Experience taught him that if he tried to sit up now, it would just hurt more. But oh that special brand of sweet sore coursing through his body right now... he loved it. 

He realised he was alone in bed, in an adjacent room to the main bedroom in fact (recent memories of which place woke up pain in certain parts that hadn’t quite come in sync until then.)

The door was not completely closed and he could hear murmurs coming from the other side of it.

‘... you were positively abominable with him’. It was Feilong’s voice that caught his ear first, a languid authority. 

‘ _I_ was?’ Mikhail’s voice was much brighter and uncontained. Akihito remembered how all day the Russian had reminded him of a lion in every respect. ‘You’re the one who wouldn’t even enter him after you got a taste of his sweet face when you let him put it in. I gave the boy what he wanted.’

‘You could’ve torn him.’

‘I wouldn’t. He knew what he was doing.’

‘Did you like it then?’ Feilong’s question was abrupt, his tone deceptively neutral. 

There was a short silence after that. Then Mikhail’s words came, quieter than quietude. ‘Do you care?’

There were rustle of sheets, struggle of limbs, a bit of huff and puff, then all was reset back to silence. 

‘You were ready to do it without me if I hadn’t come back.’

‘Nothing you wouldn’t do when we aren’t together.’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘Am I?’

‘Liu Feilong, you’ve ruined me and you don’t even know it.’

There was a surprised ouch from Feilong, and then soft moans sweet as maple syrup, and then the moans got louder and more pressed. 

Then there were more rustle of sheets, more struggle of limbs, a great deal of huff and puff, and loud protests of the bed. Akihito kept very still, although he doubted any noise from him could rise above the erotic din in the other room.

He didn’t even dare to touch the hardness forming between his legs. Didn’t want to, in fact. He left it straining and aching like a punishment. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title bears no relations to the film. 
> 
> Characters belong to Ayano Yamane.


End file.
